A Soldier Without a Purpose
by ravenhaired88
Summary: Snape miraculously survived Nagini's bite, but not without consequences. How will he fare under his new circumstances, and how will he learn to accept Harry Potter as his assistant? And will he ever figure out what is going on with Harry? Written from Snape's perspective.


Just a short little story I wrote while trying to deal with writer's block on my other stories. It was originally written for Lon Wolfgood's Physically Impaired Snape challenge on Potions and Snitches.

disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter books, characters, world, etc. Not me.

Title: A Soldier Without a Purpose

"Class dismissed," Snape hissed from between gritted teeth, standing rigidly behind his desk.

"But sir!" one Ravenclaw girl in the front row exclaimed, "There's still thirty minutes of class left! We haven't even begun the-"

"I said class dismissed! Return to your dormitories until lunch!" Snape barked out.

The class of third years hurriedly packed their bags and fled the room, leaving their unfinished potions behind.

Snape clenched his fists on his desk, his jaw tight, then swept his wand at the potions, muttering "_Evanesco_." Only the potions in the first two rows vanished, and he growled, then called out, "Lolly!"

With a crack, a small house-elf dressed in a neat tea-towel appeared. She bowed deeply, then straightened and asked, "Lolly is here to helps, sir! What do you be needing?"

"Please fetch Headmistress McGonagall, immediately," Snape forced out.

"I be getting her, sir!" the elf squeaked as it disappeared. It returned a couple of moments later with McGonagall, who immediately hurried over to Snape.

"Severus, is everything all right? Do you need me to fetch Poppy?" she asked, looking concerned as she hovered beside him.

"I'll be _fine_, Minerva," he bit out. "I simply cannot reach all of the cauldrons to vanish the incomplete potions. They should not be left for too long at this stage."

McGonagall tutted while she headed to the rows of workstations, vanishing the potions as she went. "Your legs again, Severus?" She glanced back to see Snape's slight, jerky nod. He bent down slightly when she turned back away, seeming to try to massage the muscles of his thighs. He sucked in a small breath as they twitched a bit, though his legs remained rigidly straight.

McGonagall sighed as she came back around and stood next to him, watching him slowly straighten back up and brace himself against the desk. "It is becoming more frequent, Severus," she told him quietly.

"I _know_," he hissed, closing his eyes as he took controlled and even breaths.

"You need to consider a caretaker, Sev-"

"Poppy has already spoken to me about this. I do not need one. I do not _want_ one. Lolly is perfectly capable," Snape snapped at her, his eyes flashing open.

"I know that Poppy has spoken to you about this, Severus, but you have not _listened_. You _do_ need one, Severus. You need more than a house-elf to help you, particularly a house-elf who is bound to the castle and not to you." She paused for a moment, then added, "I know that you do not wish to face this, but you will have to sooner or later. It has been over a year, Severus, and it is only getting worse. I already have a list of potential caretakers. You may come see me whenever you are ready." With that, she swept out of the room, leaving Snape staring after her from his position behind his desk.

He let out a breath that he had been holding as the door shut behind her, and idly fingered the ugly scar on his throat. He knew that she was right, even if he was still unwilling to admit it, even to himself. It had been just short of thirteen months since the Battle of Hogwarts, thirteen months since he had been miraculously rescued by Harry Potter, fresh from the victory against the Dark Lord, from the Shrieking Shack, thirteen months since Nagini's venom had wreaked havoc in his body. He had survived the bite, although it had been touch-and-go for several days, but somehow the effects of the venom, or perhaps even the venom itself, could not be completely eradicated from his system. They had no guesses as to why, although Snape himself thought it might have something to do with Nagini's connection to the Dark Lord and his own through his (now almost completely faded) Dark Mark. But something continued to periodically cause the levels of acetylcholine and acetylcholinesterase to fluctuate at his neuromuscular junctions, resulting sometimes in muscle rigidity and sometimes in lethargy in his limbs, frequently his legs.

It had happened only occasionally at first, the first time being around three weeks after he was pronounced 'cured,' progressing to around once a week a few months later, and now getting even more frequent. There was no way of knowing whether it would continue to worsen, perhaps even eventually attacking something more vital than his limbs one day, or whether it would level off at some point, or even miraculously abate.

As his thighs slowly began to unknot themselves slightly, easing the pain although he still could not control the muscles, he glanced at an odd-looking contraption that he could just see through his half-open office door. It had been a gift a couple of weeks ago from his fellow faculty members, and was a much-improved version of a muggle wheelchair. He had so far refused to use it. Growling, he turned away from the office door and reached for the simple wooden cane he had stowed underneath his desk. When it proved to be just beyond his reach, he summoned it wordlessly and held it in his left hand, waiting somewhat impatiently for his muscles to relax a bit more.

xxXxx

A few days later, Snape stood over his cauldron, working on a potion for the infirmary and leaning slightly on the cane. He had been forced to rely on it to walk to the Great Hall for dinner three times already that week, his slow steps (though he was very careful to keep his face devoid of any signs of pain) eventually causing the Headmistress to inform him that it was not _necessary_ for him to attend dinner in the Great Hall every night; it would certainly be understandable if he occasionally took dinner in his rooms. He had merely glared at her; it may be humiliating to have everyone see him in a state of infirmity, but he _refused_ to stay in his quarters like an invalid. He was almost regretting that decision, and kicking himself for his own stubbornness and pride, as he considered the prospect of making the long and slow trek up to the Great Hall in just a half an hour.

As he held a vial of one of the last ingredients over the cauldron, his hand suddenly went lax, and the entire container fell into the potion - glass and all - with a small _plop!_ He stared for a moment at the cauldron and his limp hand, dumbstruck, before pushing himself away and stumbling backwards. The potion began bubbling over as he tried to get away, his wand hand useless in casting a shield charm at the moment, and then the cauldron suddenly exploded and his world went dark.

xxXxx

He woke slowly, blinking at the lights and the whiteness of his surroundings, disoriented until he realized he was in the hospital wing with a privacy curtain drawn around his bed. He looked to his right and saw McGonagall seated in a chair by his bedside, watching him as he struggled into a sitting position.

"Do you not have better things to do than to watch me sleep, Minerva?" he snapped at her, trying to contain the flush that was threatening to creep up his cheeks. He had _exploded_ a _third-year_ potion!

The Headmistress ignored his comment. "You gave us quite a scare, Severus." He merely glared at her, and she continued, "I am afraid I can no longer give you a choice. You _will_ accept a caretaker. As classes have finished and only exams are left, I will have Bill assist you for the practical aspect of the exams for now. However, come September, you _will_ accept assistance during your classes and any time you spend brewing."

"And if I refuse?" he queried, crossing his arms petulantly.

McGonagall stared at him sternly. "Then I will be finding a new potions professor."

His jaw nearly dropped. "You cannot be serious, Minerva! I-"

"You are becoming a danger to yourself, Severus," she interrupted him, "and, by extension, your students. You are still among the most skilled potions masters in Britain - indeed, in the world - and I do not wish to lose you as a professor. However, I cannot allow you to continue as you are. I cannot force you to accept help over the holidays, although I will insist on it if you plan on using the castle to brew, but I will require you to accept help for the school term."

If he had been a man with less self-control, he would have gaped at her. He wanted to protest that she could not _fire_ him! He had been at Hogwarts for _years_! But he did not, because he knew it to be true. More than any of his other episodes, this one had shaken him. He did not trust _himself_, his own body, anymore. And as much as he loathed the idea of assistance, of a caretaker, what else could he do? Although he had been officially cleared of all charges, even received an Order of Merlin, he was still mistrusted by a large portion of the wizarding world, and he did not have so much saved up that he could live without a job indefinitely. And even if he could find someone willing to overlook his rather shady past and hire him, what could he do with his legs and hands betraying him?

And so he gritted his teeth and nodded. He did not think he imagined the brief flicker of relief that crossed Minerva's face.

"Good," she said. "I believe I have found someone who will be excellent for you. He left Hogwarts only recently, and is looking to take a little bit of time before he applies to the Auror Corps. Although he is not the best potioneer, he did manage an Exceeds Expectations on both his OWL and his NEWT, and he is already persuaded of your innocence."

Snape frowned slightly at the idea of having one of his former students care for him and see him in such a state of vulnerability. A recent student, also. He tried to think of who might fit the description that Minerva had given; there were a few students he could think of who were possibilities. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly as he thought of one student who would almost certainly fit the description, whom Minerva loved, but whom he had, to put it mildly, never gotten along with.

"Surely, you are not thinking of…"

McGonagall gave him a tiny smile. "Yes, I believe that Harry Potter would work quite well. He has actually already agreed to help you. And he has informed me that he would be available over the summer, should you desire it."

"I most certainly do NOT desire it!" he barked at her. Harry bloody Potter?! She could not be serious. He could not face the boy, not after all Snape had shared with him on that night when he had expected to die, all that Potter knew now, and not after Potter had saved his life. "You cannot be serious, Minerva. I cannot stand that arrogant, self-satisfied-"

"You and I both know that you do not truly think those things of Harry. Drop the act, Severus. I am one of the few people - perhaps even the only person - who knows you well enough to know that the problem is not with Harry, but with you. You need to get over your pride, Severus. You cannot afford it any longer." Her eyes glinted slightly as she added, "And if you must know, he is the only one who has the time, needs the job, and is willing." Her voice softened slightly. "Give him a chance, Severus. I think you might find that he needs you just as much as you need him." With that rather enigmatic statement, she stood up, and her tone became brisk. "I will arrange the exam schedule with Professor Weasley to keep Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions from clashing, and I will inform Harry that he will be needed starting September first. Unless you would like him earlier?"

Snape shook his head mutely, and she nodded, then left through a gap in the curtains.

Once she was gone, Severus slumped back slightly into his pillows. He had never expected to survive the second war against the Dark Lord, and now that he had, he was not sure it was worth the price. He was a cripple, he had no purpose left other than teaching (which he was admittedly not the best at, even when he was no longer hiding his true loyalties), he was mistrusted by both sides of the war, and he had to live with his own guilt. Blasted Harry Potter, meddling where he was not wanted.

xxXxx

On the morning of September first, Snape sat waiting in his office in his 'special chair,' as he had taken to calling it in his head. He had finally given in and begun using the blasted thing in early August, as the attacks began increasing in the length of time they lasted, particularly when they affected his legs. It could be shifted from a sitting to a standing position if necessary, so that if his legs became rigid while he was standing he could still utilize it. He had tried once using the standing position when his legs went limp so that he could continue working on a potion, but he found the sensation of being held in place only by straps too strange, and instead had his workstation modified so that it could be lowered if necessary. The chair also had a rather complicated-looking set of wheels which could ride up or down stairs fairly smoothly, a collapsible tray, a hook from which he could hang his cane or a bag, and handles in the back by which someone else could push it if his arms happened to give out at the same time as his legs (something which had, quite fortunately, only occurred twice so far). However, since he refused to sit in the chair when he did not require it (and Poppy had agreed that it was probably healthy for him to continue using his muscles whenever possible), he had been forced to send Lolly to fetch the matron far too often, and found it quite humiliating to have her help him into the contraption.

He was rather nervous to receive Harry Potter, his new assistant (he preferred the term to 'caretaker'). He had not seen his former student face-to-face in over a year - not since he had woken in St. Mungo's after Nagini's attack. He knew that he had studied a few subjects at Hogwarts over the past year, preparing for the NEWTs he would need to apply to be an Auror, although he had not been an official full-time student and had not resided at Hogwarts (though where he had resided, Snape was not sure - he did not think he had returned to his relatives'). He had never approached Snape about taking seventh-year potions, instead directly asking the Headmistress for permission to study the subject independently. Snape had avoided the potions classroom like the plague when Potter had booked it for his own use.

However, for at least the next year, Potter would be living in his own rooms in the castle, which had a hallway that connected them to Snape's own quarters. Snape was not happy about that particular feature, but it had been decided that it would be prudent to allow for the eventual possibility that he may want or need help outside of the potions classroom and brewing.

He heard voices approaching his office, and then a crisp knock on the door. He cursed under his breath. He had been hoping that his legs would recover from their most recent bout of lethargy more quickly so that he could meet Potter standing upright, or at least only using the cane, rather than from his chair. Well, there was nothing to be done for it, and he would see him like this eventually anyways.

"Come in," he called out, arranging himself behind the desk so that it was at least slightly less obvious that he could not stand at the moment.

The door opened, and in walked the Headmistress and Harry Potter, bane of his existence. The boy's hair was still messy, his stature still skinny and on the shorter side, his glasses still round and rather unsophisticated, and his eyes still emerald green like Lily's. But his overall presence was older, more mature. He looked like someone who knew what it was to carry the weight of the world and the burden of destiny on his shoulders, someone who had seen friends die before his eyes and enemies killed with his own hands, and someone who had been given a second, unexpected chance at life but was unsure what to do with it. He reminded Snape of the soldiers he had seen returning from war when he was a child, mature beyond their years, grateful for their life, but a bit lost. With a start, he realized it was the same look, the same bearing, the same haunted and confused eyes that he sometimes saw in his own mirror. He shook himself mentally from his strange thoughts, turning his attention to what Minerva was saying.

"I suppose you two need no introductions. I believe it would be wise, however, to discuss expectations. Harry, your presence will be required for every potions class that Severus teaches, except on the occasions when he gives out written exams, as well as any time he is brewing or helping a student to brew outside of class time. Basically, any time he is brewing or overseeing brewing, you will be needed. You need only step in if he experiences difficulty. Beyond that, it is up to the two of you to decide. Severus has indicated that he does not want your help for anything beyond the necessary, however we have allowed in your contract for the possibility that he may need more personal help at some point." Snape flushed slightly as she said this, though he kept his features expressionless, and she turned to him to add, "You will need to inform Mr. Potter if you ever do desire more help, as well as the best ways to help you when you do experience an attack in the classroom or the lab."

She looked between the two of them somewhat thoughtfully. "Well, I will leave you to get settled. I have already shown Mr. Potter to his rooms. Lunch will be served in a couple of hours in the Great Hall, although you can also feel free to call a house-elf to bring you some food in your quarters. All staff is required to be at dinner each night, as well as at least three other meals throughout the week. I will see you both at the Welcoming Feast tonight." She turned and exited the room, leaving the door open behind her.

The two men stared at each other for a moment, a tense silence between them. Snape finally broke it by saying, in a seemingly disinterested tone, "I will expect you to be early to all of my classes, and to sit quietly in a corner unless you are needed. I will inform you if I require your assistance, although I prefer to keep it as… discreet as possible. During classes, I will most likely simply ask you to vanish a potion if necessary, to inform me of the color of one if I cannot see it from my vantage point, or, hopefully on rare occasions, have you help me into my chair. While I am brewing, I will want you a bit closer in case of emergencies. Mainly, you may need to be ready to cast a shield charm quickly, and otherwise to vanish the potion or help me into my chair under my orders. Occasionally, I may ask you to help me finish a potion, in which case you will pay _very_ close attention to my instructions." His blank face turned into a warning glare directed at Harry as he said this last part.

Harry only nodded, saying "Yes, sir. I understand."

"Good. Then I will see you at the feast tonight, and I will bring you a schedule of my classes."

Harry took his cue and left at that, turning to the left outside of Snape's office door, the direction of his own rooms.

xxXxx

After the first several weeks of classes, Snape felt as though the two of them had developed a rhythm of sorts. They did not say much to each other, but Harry always responded with alacrity when he summoned him or had a potions mishap, and there had been no more trips to the hospital wing. Surprisingly, despite Severus' snarky attitude and often acerbic remarks, the boy - er, man - never talked back or retaliated. He was quiet and surprisingly respectful, and remarkably good at determining when he was needed and how best to help Snape without compromising too much of the proud man's dignity. However, although Snape was spending increasingly more time in his chair, he still refused to invite Harry into his quarters or ask for any help with personal matters, despite a few close calls when he was alone.

One day after the last class of the day had ended, Snape addressed Harry while the latter was cleaning up the classroom, since Snape's hands and arms had gone rigid mid-way through the second-to-last class.

"I will require you in the lab tonight after dinner," he stated briskly from where he stood watching Harry restore the classroom to order, trying to ignore the cramping pain in his arms.

Harry paused and looked up. "It's Monday today, sir. You don't usually brew on Mondays."

"I am aware, Mr. Potter. I am making an exception tonight."

Snape could see the hesitation in Potter's face as he said, "I can't tonight, sir."

Snape sneered at him. "What, do you have a date? Did the Chosen One find a girl in Hogsmeade?"

Harry flushed slightly. "No, sir. I'm still dating Ginny, anyway."

"Then what?" Snape snapped, growing angry. Merlin help him, he hated being dependant on someone else, but he could not brew without help! "What is so important you feel it is necessary to skive off your job?"

"I'm not skiving!" Harry retorted hotly. "I have an appointment!"

Snape paused, mildly puzzled. "An appointment? A medical one?" he queried.

Harry's face flushed slightly as he nodded. "Madam Pomfrey's not free any other night this week."

"Then see her next week."

Harry's face reddened further. "I have to see her every week," he said quietly.

Snape looked at Harry more closely, thoughtful now. "Is she treating you for something?"

Harry glared at him, as if to say _What do you think?_

Snape sighed and shifted his weight. "Fine. I will brew tomorrow night."

xxXxx

It took a couple weeks of careful observation before Snape determined for what Madam Pomfrey was treating Harry. But he finally caught a clear enough look to identify the potion he had seen his assistant add to his goblet at meals a couple of times.

Malnutrition? Potter was being treated for malnutrition?

As he looked more closely, it made some kind of sense. The boy was really quite skinny - always had been. But it was very unusual to treat an adult who clearly had enough food available to them for malnutrition - it was puzzling, really. He had actually been making the potion himself - and with Potter's help! - but he had assumed that the potion had been for a student, that perhaps a case of abuse had been uncovered in one of the other houses.

He let it go, for now, but continued to observe Harry Potter closely. Perhaps there was something going on the with the boy, something more that he had not noticed. But what secrets could the Chosen One possibly be hiding?

xxXxx

There was something more going on with Potter. He was sure of it. He had been watching him more closely ever since he found out about the malnutrition. Potter was _too_ quiet. He had been relieved, at first, to discover that Potter was not brash and foolhardy any longer, for he did not think he could stand being stuck with _that_ Potter for any length of time. But now it just seemed... wrong. Potter was polite, respectful, and hardly said an unnecessary word, but far from seeming like a mature young man, Potter looked defeated, sad, worn. And despite the nutrition potion he was on, he did not look healthy, or like he was gaining any weight.

So what was wrong with him? Had he been hit by some stray curse in the final battle, was that what was causing this? But if so, why had it not been mentioned?

Snape was loathe to admit it, but he had found that he did not mind the boy's - er, man's - presence so much anymore. It was not truly Potter's fault that he had survived Nagini's bite; the boy could hardly help but play the hero, and besides, Severus was notoriously stubborn. And, wonder of wonders, Severus was beginning to actually… _worry_ about Potter. He assured himself that it was only because of his promise to protect him, for Lily's sake, nothing more. Of course, he had not imagined protecting him once the Dark Lord was gone for good, but his promise was still in effect. And besides, where would he find another competent assistant?

xxXxx

Harry was looking particularly tired one Tuesday morning in early November, and Snape's curiosity (because that was, of course, all it was) finally got the better of him. He was watching him work with an impassive expression, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the shoulders that slumped as he went about unfolding Snape's chair (a bout of lethargy had just hit his legs between his morning classes). Snape eventually spoke up while he was himself tightening the straps that kept him stable in the chair.

"Mr. Potter, would you care to join me in my quarters for a game of chess tonight after dinner?"

When he looked up, Potter was gaping openly at him. Snape frowned.

"Are you attempting to catch flies, or merely working on your impression of a fish? I assure you that neither endeavor is particularly useful."

Potter shut his mouth quickly. "Chess?" he queried, unsure.

"Yes, I imagine you are familiar with the game? It is not a highly uncommon one. I do believe, if I remember correctly, that your friend Mr. Weasley played a rather large version of it in your first year, against Minerva's set?" Really, the boy was not _that_ dimwitted.

"Er, yes sir," Potter finally said.

Snape growled quietly. "Yes, what? Yes, you have heard of the game, or yes, you accept my invitation?"

Potter gulped noticeably. "Yes, I accept your invitation."

Snape nodded. "Very well. Knock on the adjoining door to my quarters when you are ready, I will let you in."

Harry only nodded before returning to his seat in the corner.

xxXxx

When he heard the knock on his door that night, Snape snatched up his cane and made his slow way over to the door, his legs responding sluggishly as they always did for a period of time (which more recently was stretching into several hours) after an attack. He called out, "Coming!" to forestall any subsequent knocks due to his crawling pace.

When he finally opened the door and stood back, Potter entered with only a nod, looking a bit nervous and unsure, and only slightly more energetic than that morning.

Snape gestured to the coffee table where the chess board was set up. "You may have a seat in front of white, if you wish. I will be with you in a moment." He shuffled to the kitchen as Harry seated himself on the couch, glancing around the room curiously.

Snape returned carrying a tray of tea balanced in his left hand, and carefully set it down on the table before sinking into the armchair across from Harry.

After they had each made several moves, Snape finally stated, "You seem especially tired today."

When Potter did not answer, he mentally kicked himself for not phrasing it as a question. Although it was surprisingly sly of Potter to pick up on that.

"Why is that?" he finally asked, contemplating the board.

After a moment, Harry shrugged. "Haven't slept well lately."

Snape moved his rook, then asked, "Your appointments with Madam Pomfrey are going well?"

Harry stared at him, before remembering it was his turn and looking back at the board. "Er, they're fine, I guess."

Snape nodded. "Nothing to be concerned about? Nothing that would affect your performance at your job?"

Harry flushed slightly and met his gaze. "No, sir," he stated with a hint of anger in his tone. "Am I not meeting your expectations in some way?"

"No, no of course not," Snape said, examining the man before him thoughtfully.

Harry nodded curtly, and they resumed their game, maintaining their silence until Snape finally stated, "Checkmate." However, despite its awkward beginnings, a game of chess soon became a weekly event between the two of them. And, to the surprise of each of them, they both found the sessions tolerable, perhaps even mildly enjoyable.

xxXxx

Only a couple of weeks later, Snape ventured up to the hospital wing on a Monday evening in search of more numbing cream for his cramping legs. He usually kept a stock of it in his private quarters, but he had run out and was in no mood to create a new batch himself at the moment. Besides, Potter was unavailable on Monday nights, although the reason for it had apparently escaped his mind since he was rather surprised to open the door to the hospital wing and hear Harry Potter and Madam Pomfrey conversing from behind a privacy screen. He debated for only a moment the morality of eavesdropping, before deciding it was their own fault for neglecting to erect a silencing charm.

"…are still not gaining weight very quickly, Harry. This is somewhat troubling," Madam Pomfrey was saying.

"I know, Madam. I'm sorry, I just don't have an appetite. I try to eat more, I do."

"I know, Harry, and how many times have I told you that you may call me Poppy? You are no longer a student," the matron admonished him. "But you say that Mack is helping?"

"Yeah, some, I think so," Potter said.

"Well, I advise you to do your best to open up to him. Trust him, Harry. You will get through this."

Deciding he had better make his presence known before he got caught, Snape began rolling forward, calling, "Poppy!"

The voices cut off abruptly and Madam Pomfrey appeared from behind the curtain.

"What is it, Severus?" she asked briskly, watching him cross the wing.

"Do you have any numbing cream left?" he asked somewhat quietly, still rather embarrassed to be asking such a thing, although his physical difficulties were definitely no longer a secret. "I have run out of my own stock, and I cannot brew anymore tonight," he explained as he came to a stop before her, attempting to refrain from massaging his thighs as it was too obviously a sign of discomfort, and instead gripping them with white-knuckled hands.

"Certainly, I'll fetch a jar," she answered, bustling away.

Once she had disappeared into her office, Harry stepped out from behind the curtain, facing Snape with a surprisingly stern gaze. He nodded at Snape, then headed towards one of the private rooms without a word.

On his way back to the dungeons, numbing cream in his lap, Snape considered what he had heard. So the boy was not completely physically healthy. He had no appetite? The nutrition potion was designed as a caloric supplement, but in the long term it could not replace food, and so it was important that food intake be increased. And who was this… Mack? Was he some kind of specialist? Snape had never heard of him before. He almost sounded like… a therapist. But that could not be right. He shook himself mentally. Who was he, a very private man himself, to pry into someone else's secrets? He needed to let it go, ignore the worry that was gnawing at him.

xxXxx

It took until a couple of weeks before the Christmas holidays for Snape to finally ask Harry to help him in his quarters. He had been running a bit later than usual one morning as he stepped into the shower, having overslept after being up for a good portion of the night from the pain of his cramping legs (only partially masked by the numbing cream). The rigidity finally subsided in the early morning, but he had hardly slept and woke with only barely enough time to ready himself before his first class. However, after just a couple of minutes standing in the shower, lethargy began creeping quickly up from his feet to his thighs. He had just enough time to curse and attempt to stumble out of the shower before his legs went completely limp and he collapsed inside the small tub, cracking his head against the wall.

Fortunately, despite the stabbing pain now shooting through his skull, he did not pass out. But he was now in a rather difficult position. He tried pulling himself over the wall of the tub, but what had once seemed like a luxuriously deep and spacious tub he now realized actually had obnoxiously tall sides. Even as he tried to pull himself up, he knew that although he might eventually succeed in getting out of the tub, he was not going to be able to reach the doorknob to open the bathroom door, which was currently separating him from his chair.

The time ticked on as he contemplated his predicament, searching for a way out. Finally, when he was most definitely going to be late to his class, he gave in.

"Lolly!" he called, and the elf materialized before him.

"What can Lolly be doings- Eek!" The elf gave a high-pitched squeal and clapped her hands over her mouth when she caught sight of him, naked and twisted around in his tub as he tried to hang on to the edge, watering still pouring over his body. "Master Snape, sir, is you ok?" she asked, concern finally overriding her shock.

"Just peachy," he muttered. "Lolly, I need you to get Harry Potter. Tell him to use the passage between our rooms; it is not locked, despite what I told him. Have him meet me here in the bathroom."

"Lolly can do that, sir." The elf disappeared with a crack.

Snape sighed and attempted to rearrange himself into a slightly more dignified position, fighting to keep a blush from creeping up to his face.

About five minutes later, there was a quiet knock on the bathroom door.

"Yes, I am in here," he said, his voice emotionless.

The door opened and Harry stepped in, eyes widening just slightly at the sight before him until he managed to get his face under control. He moved quickly over and shut off the water, then levitated Snape onto the closed toilet where he could grip the metal bars that had been installed just a few weeks before. He handed him a towel and his wand from the sink, then said, "I'll be right back with your chair."

When he re-entered the room a minute later, pushing the chair, Snape was dry and was trying to pull his shirt on without completely releasing the bars. After he eventually succeeded, he used a switching spell to put his pants on, then began tying his tie as Harry levitated him into his chair.

Once there, he felt more in control, though still rather embarrassed. "I will be fine now, thank you," he told Harry. "Would you go check on my class, please? Keep the Gryffindors and Slytherins from killing each other? I'll just be five more minutes."

Harry nodded and left without protest, which Snape appreciated more than he was willing to admit. Unlike Poppy or Minerva, Potter did not argue with him over what he could or could not do. He did only what he was asked to do, and stepped in only when absolutely necessary. He did not badger him about letting him help more often, or insist that he was only being stubborn. It helped Snape to feel as though he still had some vestiges of dignity left.

However, after that incident, Snape began asking Harry to watch him, and help him on occasion, with some of his morning and nightly ablutions - particularly bathing. And after she heard about the incident (although it was like pulling teeth to get the full story out of Snape), Madam Pomfrey ended up suggesting a new design for Snape's tub, which Snape reluctantly agreed to. Harry and him ended up building a reclining shower/tub chair, complete with hand and foot controls that could lower him into or out of the tub and swing him back and forth over it, as well as putting another set of metal bars on the shower walls.

xxXxx

When Christmas break rolled around, Snape refused to admit that he was afraid. Harry's necessary duties did not include holidays, as long as Snape agreed not to use the castle to brew, and Snape had never worked up the courage to ask him for assistance over the two-week-long break. As far as he knew, Harry was planning on spending the holiday with the Weasleys. He imagined that Ginny would probably be home, likely having a break from training with the Holyhead Harpies, and the two would probably enjoy the time together with her family. Even once he had realized that it might be nice to have Potter around for assistance, when necessary, he felt too guilty to ask Potter to change his plans, although he could not fathom what there was to feel guilty about.

The morning after the majority of students had left for the break, he attracted several looks as he entered the Great Hall and walked towards the head table for breakfast; there were even a few outright stares from the Hufflepuff table. He straightened in response to them, his gait as smooth and fluid as it ever had been, and his robes billowing out behind him as they used to always. He supposed he could not blame them, really, for staring. This was the first meal in two months that he had walked to unaided, and even so he had not had the courage to leave behind his cane (he had, instead, shrunk it and placed it in a pocket of his robes, although he was aware that doing so too often could injure it).

As he took his seat, the Headmistress leaned over and told him, "You are looking well today, Severus. It is good to see."

He merely inclined his head to her and began dishing up his plate, listening to the conversation around him as he ate.

"Harry, what are your plans for the holidays?" Flitwick was asking.

"Well, I'm leaving for Ron and George's place tonight, and I'll stay with them for a few days before we all head to the Burrow. I think the whole family is coming for Christmas, even Hermione and her parents are coming for the day." He glanced over at Bill Weasley as he said this.

_Oh yes, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger are engaged now. Now that is an interesting match; hopefully I will no longer be teaching when their children start coming to Hogwarts._ Snape suppressed a shudder imagining Granger's brains combined with Weasley's troublemaking tendencies and lack of common sense.

Bill smiled. "Yes, the whole family is coming, although Fleur and I will not be spending the night. We'll just come for Christmas Eve and return Christmas morning for the day."

_Well, that answers that question. And I certainly cannot ask him to stay now. I suppose I will muddle through; I did just fine this past summer._

It took only a couple of days for Snape to realize just how much he had come to rely on Harry, and he found that idea even more frightening than the prospect of spending the rest of the two weeks without an assistant. He had not recognized - had _refused_ to recognize, more likely - just how much worse his condition had become since the summer. The attacks which affected his hands were becoming less and less frequent, for which he was very grateful, but the attacks on his legs were becoming more frequent and longer-lasting. He was spending around half of his time in his chair and an additional quarter of his time relying on his cane.

While he did not often strictly _need_ Potter when it was his legs rather than his hands that gave out (unless he was caught in a situation that prevented him from getting into his chair), he found his presence oddly… reassuring, and had grown somewhat used to asking for help from Potter even when he was in an embarrassing position or situation. He had not fully realized how nice it was to have someone who would make no comment, no matter the situation, until he had been forced to send Lolly for Poppy that morning to help him into his chair.

However, it took only two incidents of being subjected to Madam Pomfrey's clucking and sympathetic looks for Snape to start remaining in his chair nearly all the time, reducing the chances that he would have to call for the overly-compassionate woman's help. _Only until Harry returns_, he thought to himself, surprised at how his feelings had changed so quickly.

xxXxx

When classes resumed and Harry did return, Snape was surprised to notice that he was no longer the only one who was concerned for the boy's well-being. Bill Weasley seemed to also be keeping a close eye on Harry, observing him thoughtfully at mealtimes and in the halls. Snape even saw Bill leaving Harry's rooms in the evenings a couple of times, a worried frown on his face.

Eventually, against his better judgment, Snape ended up asking the professor about it. He waited for Bill to finish his meal one night in the Great Hall before standing up and grabbing onto the handles of his chair to lean on. As the red-haired man stood up, he made up his mind rather impulsively, made his (somewhat slow) way over, pushing his wheeled chair before him, and addressed him.

"Bill, I was wondering if I might have a word with you?"

Bill turned to him, looking surprised, but nodded. "Would you like to accompany me to my quarters? We can speak there."

"That would be fine," Snape responded, inclining his head slightly.

Bill kept pace patiently with Snape all the way to the second floor, even as Snape sluggishly lifted each leg up the stairs. He never voiced a word of complaint, for which Snape was grateful, even if the silence was slightly awkward. When they finally reached Bill's sitting room, Snape did his best not to completely collapse into the proffered armchair, then folded his own chair and leaned it against the wall next to him.

"You wished to speak to me?" Bill prodded him as he sank into his own chair, wordlessly offering Severus some tea.

Severus accepted the tea and sipped it as he thought for a moment. "I suppose I was wondering if you, also, had noticed something… off about Harry." Despite the plain look of surprise on Bill's face, he continued, "I have noticed for a while that something seems to be wrong with him, but I am not sure what to do about it. He may already be receiving help for… whatever it is. But I am not sure that Minerva or Poppy would believe me if I brought concerns to them, given my history with him, or that they would tell me anything if he has already gone to them for help. I am…" he paused for a moment, then said quietly, "I am worried about him."

Bill looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment. Severus had to keep himself from shifting under the scrutiny. Finally, Bill spoke. "I, along with a few other members of my family, noticed something was wrong over the holidays. I've tried speaking with him about it, but he hasn't told me anything. But… It might be possible that you would have more luck."

Severus nearly snorted. "Me? Why would I have more luck than you?"

Bill shot him a disbelieving look. "Surely you've noticed how he feels towards you now?"

"How he- towards _me_?"

"Yes, Severus, towards you. It has been rather obvious. I thought you would have noticed. I believe he looks up to you. Quite a lot, in fact. Rather like an older brother, or an uncle, perhaps."

For a moment, Severus was speechless. "Surely… You cannot be…" He breathed deeply, collecting himself. _I sound like a tongue-tied schoolboy_. "Surely he sees _you_ more that way than _me_?"

Bill waved a hand in dismissal. "Yes, he sees me as a bit of an older brother, but he's hardly known me before this year, and we still don't interact all that often. I think he enjoys our occasional dueling sessions, but he respects you quite a bit more than myself. I'm not sure, maybe it's your weekly chess times, or something else. I think it would be good for you to talk to him, though."

Severus only nodded, still rather stunned. How could he have missed those signs? They apparently had been obvious to Bill, likely even to other members of the staff. How had he, the _spy_, missed it? Even now, he could not think of anything in Harry's behavior that would have pointed to this. Perhaps Bill was just messing with him? But no, the man seemed quite sincere.

"All right, I will try."

xxXxx

The next night at their usual chess game, Snape broached the subject with Harry.

"I have been worried about you lately," he began bluntly. "As have others. There has been something wrong since the beginning of the school year, possibly much earlier. And it does not seem to be getting any better."

Severus met Harry's serious, somewhat frightened, gaze. "What is it, Harry? What is wrong? I no longer will believe that it is nothing."

They only stared at each other for long minutes, before Harry finally looked away. He shrugged his thin shoulders, looking surprisingly young as he stared at the floor.

"You must give me more than a shrug, Harry," Severus admonished him rather gently.

"I know, I just can't think of what to say." He shrugged again.

"How about if you start by telling me why you are being treated for malnutrition?"

Harry looked up, surprised.

Severus smirked at him. "I am a potions master, Harry. I was bound to notice at some point what you were pouring into your goblet."

"I, er… I guess I've always been a little underweight. But usually I put on a bit once I get to Hogwarts. But I guess I didn't last year. And then Minerva found out about my, er… my relatives, and then she made me see Poppy for a more thorough exam, and then she made me go on the nutrition potion. I've been on it for about a year now, I think."

"Your relatives?" Severus asked.

"Er, yeah… Well… I guess they didn't feed me much, ya know? So, Poppy thinks that's why I'm so short," Harry answered, looking embarrassed.

Severus nodded, beginning to understand what Harry was hinting at. "But why did you not gain more weight last year? I could understand you losing weight while you and Weasley and Granger were camping out for the year, but why did you not gain it back? Are you ill?"

Harry's face flushed slightly. "No, er, not exactly. I just… I haven't been hungry much, I've had a hard time getting myself to eat. Mack thinks it has something to do with control, or something. He says I'm depressed. But," he shrugged, "it's just how it always was. It doesn't seem so strange to me."

"Mack?"

"Oh, yeah, he's my, er, my… therapist." Harry looked back at the floor as he admitted this. "Minerva told me I had to see one every week if she gave me this job."

"You wanted this job that badly?" Severus asked, incredulous.

Harry shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah, well, I needed something. I want to be an Auror but I just don't feel quite ready for that yet. And I didn't want to just sit around for a year or two - it got boring enough just that summer after the Battle, even with all the press conferences I had to go to. I thought about playing Quidditch, but I didn't think I needed more fame, and I wanted to work somewhere where I'd just be… Harry." He smiled a bit sheepishly. "I thought this would be perfect, I knew you'd never treat me like a _celebrity_."

Severus smirked slightly at that. _Well, that's fair_. "Why did Minerva want you to see a therapist?"

"I guess she thinks I need it. When she found out about my relatives, and then with everything that happened with Voldemort… I guess she thought I wasn't coping or something."

Severus nodded thoughtfully. "And what do you think?"

Harry contemplated for a moment, then said, "I think the world just feels a little strange now. It's hard to really grasp that he's gone. He was such a huge part of seven years of my life - really, the first eighteen years of my life, I just didn't know it. I had this huge weight on my shoulders - since I learned about the prophecy, certainly, but even before that I think I kind of knew. And now, it's just gone, and it's like I'm figuring out how to stand up straight again." He shrugged again. "I don't really know what to do with myself. I want to be an Auror, I want to protect people, I want to help straighten out the Ministry, I really do. But I also don't really feel ready to take up that mantle again, not just yet. And at the same time, I don't really know what to do without it." One corner of his mouth turned upward. "I guess I kinda do have a _saving people thing_, like Hermione said."

Snape sat back in his chair, the game between him and Harry completely forgotten. "Why did you decide to confide this in me? Not that I mind, but we have never been particularly close before."

"I guess… you've just seemed like you get it. Like you've been there too, like maybe you still are there. I see it in your eyes, sometimes. Your whole life was spying, and you didn't expect to survive it. And now you have, and you're still teaching, and you're still brewing, but sometimes… it's like you're just there, but not completely there. Not always, just sometimes."

Severus stared at the man before him, the man who had just summed up his entire struggle in just a few short sentences. "A soldier without a purpose," he finally said. "Albus told me I was _drifting_, after the first war ended. He told me I needed to find a new purpose."

"How did you do that?" Harry asked, a flicker of hope in his eyes.

"I found someone that needed protecting." When Harry looked confused, he clarified, "You."

"Me?"

"Yes. I promised to protect you, because you were what your mother, Lily, died for. And once the Dark Lord was gone, I did not think you needed protecting anymore. But the past couple of months," he looked seriously into Harry's eyes, "I've realized that maybe you do."

"So maybe…" Harry thought for a moment. "Maybe that means, that you need me too. I mean, for more than just helping you into your chair, because Madam Pomfrey could do that if she needed to."

Severus smiled genuinely, a rare sight on his face. "Maybe I do."

xxXxx

"You will write to me, yes?"

"Yes, Severus, I will. And visit when I can."

Severus nodded, unsure of what else to say. It was the end of the school year, all of the students were already gone, and he was seeing Harry off. Harry was starting Auror training, along with Ron, in just a few days. He was moving into Ron and George's place; he planned to sleep on the couch until Ron and Hermione's wedding in a month, then he would take over Ron's space.

Harry met his gaze and assured him, "Severus, I'll be fine. I'm doing much better now."

"You are," Severus murmured, looking him up and down. _It is true, so why am I still worried about him_? Harry had managed to get up to a normal weight range, although he was still on the thin side, and had even put on a little bit of muscle, filling out his shoulders some. He no longer looked quite so much like a scrawny teenager, but more like a young adult. And he was sure to fill out even more in the Auror program. He was no longer quite so depressed, and had stopped seeing Mack about a month ago. And Severus could tell that Harry was very excited about being an Auror.

Harry's gaze turned serious for a moment. "And you'll be fine too, right Severus? You're so secretive, sometimes it's hard to tell."

Severus flapped a hand at him. "Of course I'll be fine. I've hardly needed your assistance at all for the past couple of months or so. And I have not had an attack on my hands in at least three months."

Harry nodded, although he still looked a bit worried.

Severus sighed. "You know Minerva, Harry, she would not trust me by myself brewing unless she was absolutely sure. She has asked me to wait another month, but assuming my hands continue to be fine, and I continue to be wise about my legs, she has said she will not require me to have an assistant next year. You know this, Harry, we discussed it."

It was true, and Harry had seen it himself. The attacks were now completely centered in Severus' legs. While they were now so frequent and long-lasting that he spent all of his time, with very few exceptions, either in his chair or using his cane, they also had developed a more gradual onset, so that he had some warning and was able to get to his chair provided that it was relatively close. And Severus had begun to learn how to live with it. Although he still hoped to perhaps find a cure some day, he was almost grateful for his condition because without it Harry and he would not have grown close as they had.

Harry smiled a bit. "I know. I still worry about you. I'm sorry."

Severus gave him a small smile back. He knew that Harry was unlikely to completely stop worrying about him, and although it was somewhat annoying, he understood where it stemmed from. Harry had lost too many mentors and parental figures in his short life not to worry. And Severus was proud to be considered a sort of mix between an uncle and a mentor by Harry. He felt the same way about Harry; he was actually planning on making him his heir.

"All right." Severus reached up and patted Harry on the shoulder slightly, still somewhat awkward about outwardly showing his affection for the young man. "You should probably get going, before Weasley starts thinking I kidnapped you."

Harry grinned and hoisted his bags, then walked towards the door, waving as he went.

THE END.

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